II.

I stood in the summer morning Under a cavernous yew; The sun was gently climbing, And the scents rose after the dew.

I saw the wise old mansion, Like a cow in the noon-day heat, Stand in a lake of shadows That rippled about its feet.

Its windows were oriel and latticed, Lowly and wide and fair; And its chimneys like clustered pillars Stood up in the thin blue air.

White doves, like the thoughts of a lady, Haunted it all about; With a train of green and blue comets The peacock went marching stout.

The birds in the trees were singing A song as old as the world, Of love and green leaves and sunshine, And winter folded and furled.

They sang that never was sadness But it melted and passed away; They sang that never was darkness But in came the conquering day.

And I knew that a maiden somewhere, In a low oak-panelled room, In a nimbus of shining garments, An aureole of white-browed bloom,

Looked out on the garden dreamy, And knew not it was old; Looked past the gray and the sombre, Saw but the green and the gold,